Warriors
by AetheriumDreams
Summary: The Spartan-IIIs of Team Dagger are on their first mission as a deployed unit... just in time for the Great Schism. Summary sucks, please Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1: Dagger

"There you are."

Spartan-G202 sighted down the barrel of his sniper rifle, a slight grin playing on his lips. He wished the other members of his team could see the downright evil smile he was about to give this Covie bastard, before he blew the alien's brains out. But they were all wearing helmets with reflective polarized visors, so they couldn't share in his fun.

_BLAM._

"Ooh, right in his eye," whispered Spartan-G326, pleased with the results. "Look at that, fell right down on that Grunt."

"Brutes: big, ugly, and stuuuu-pid," quipped Spartan-G015, snickering. "Check out that Jackal, man. He's freakin' out."

_BLAM. _"Not anymore, he's not."

"Can it, you three. We got bigger problems," hissed Spartan-G176 from behind them. "We gotta wait for Team Rapier to give us the signal. Then we move."

"All according to plan," said G326.

Two more armored figures silently made their way into the small clearing, pausing before lowering their weapons. Their Semi-Powered Infiltration armor shifted and changed color in an attempt to blend in with the surrounding gray-green foliage. They had improvised and wrapped their MA5K assault rifles in dyed rags that mimicked the forest colors. "Welcome mat is laid out," one of them said in a bored tone.

Benjamin, G202, examined the area and kept his finger over the trigger of his gun. From the looks of things, killing the Brute had sent all six of the Grunts into a synchronized panic attack. There were a couple of Jackals, plus the dead body of the one he had killed with a head shot. Neither of the birdlike aliens had sniper rifles, which was a good thing… the creatures were uncanny shots when it came to sniping. All they had were their customary shields and plasma pistols. Hardly good weapons for long-range killing.

"Justin, Hope—take out those Grunts and Jackals. Don't want 'em steppin' on the welcome mat too early," G176—Kayla— ordered.

The two Spartans who had just entered the clearing faded out just as quickly, moving with professional and deadly purpose.

The staccato firing of UNSC weapons and the screams of dying aliens was enough to get Benjamin's blood up. He listened as the Covies were killed, then turned back to his teammates. Kayla had removed her helmet and was worrying a bruise on the side of her head. He could see the skin there turning purple under her blonde buzz cut. Her violet-blue eyes darted everywhere as she cleared her throat. "Bayonet's taking way too long," she muttered, concerned.

"Bayonet's probably just squabbling over who gets to push the big red button," G326, or Raymond, said lightly. "You know how touchy those pyromaniacs can be."

"Touchy is an understatement," muttered Benjamin.

"Let's just hope they get their act together this time," G015, Jesse, sighed.

The bulk of Gamma Company had been deployed into combat on the Inner Colony world of Serendipity just over a week ago. A few teams had been selected to stay behind and continue training, such as teams Saber, Katana and Gladius. Team Dagger had literally jumped at the opportunity to finally test their carefully-honed skills in war against the Covenant, the alien collective that had destroyed their homeworlds and families. Revenge was sweet, no matter how hard and painful it was to accomplish.

Now three teams were in the same area, on the Madagascar-sized island known as Delphi: Dagger, Bayonet and Cutlass. The objective of the entire group was to distract the Covenant ground forces long enough for ONI to evacuate its personnel and research away from the military base that lay no more than a few dozen miles away, at the heart of Delphi. They had all split off into separate squads to wage guerilla warfare against the aliens. So far it had worked; attacks from different areas, plus the Spartans' effectiveness in sabotage and killing, had kept the Covenant's attention fixated away from the military base. Unfortunately, none of them had made contact with the base in over four days. But until they were told to stop fighting, they would fight to the death to fulfill the mission.

A sudden tremor in the earth caused Benjamin to flinch slightly. His teammates also froze. Then a mushroom cloud erupted from a far distance, sending an explosive shock wave in its wake.

"That's the signal," Kayla said with a satisfied smirk. She put on her helmet and hefted her MA37. "Now things start to get interesting."

The sound of her oddly musical British-accented voice made Benjamin feel invigorated somehow. He slung his sniper rifle across his back and checked his weapons. After doing this, he rose to his full six and a half feet of height and yawned. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. So let's play." He held up his MA5K and slapped a fresh clip into the magazine.

"Oh look, our fan club is coming," Jesse announced, pointing.

A troop of blue-armored Elites led by a red-armored Elite emerged from a grove of trees on the other side of the ravine. The red Elite barked a string of orders in his deep, growling voice and stalked ahead as if he was irritated with his own men. They did not answer, but moved with grim purpose, attending to their own separate tasks. They seemed to be searching for something. They noticed the dead Brute and the Grunts and Jackals and started investigating.

Benjamin watched them with narrowed eyes behind his visor. He hated all Covenant, but especially Elites. And there was a very good reason for that. A reason he sought to bury underneath his cool exterior and years of training, but somehow couldn't…

_He remembered waking up in the middle of the night. His mother was screaming and his father was agitated. They snatched him out of bed and ran out of the house. His father was holding a shotgun, an antique more than anything else, as if ready to kill something. Benjamin looked up and saw what looked like fish flying in the sky, illuminated by an eerie light. It took him a minute to realize that the light was coming from fire… fire that rose from very far away and seemed to reach for the sky. The air was unseasonably, uncomfortably hot. And the fish were actually space ships, ships he had never seen before…_

_ Then he saw _them. _The aliens. They came bounding through the streets, shooting out globs of light with their guns, cutting down his neighbors like savages. A big alien with a funny glowing sword led the attack, bellowing in a language that made Benjamin's blood freeze, it sounded so awful. There were screams everywhere, and the smell of burned flesh. Benjamin screamed as one of the big aliens with a sword leaped at them. His father brought the shotgun to bear, but it was too late. His father's head was severed from his body in one swift stroke. Benjamin's mother fell backwards, shrieking and crying, hysterical. She dropped Benjamin. He landed hard on his side and watched in horror as the alien then proceeded to spear his mother through the chest. She died instantly. He was so afraid, he couldn't even bring himself to scream. All he could do was stare up at the monster that had just killed his parents._

_ His eyes met the alien's. The alien's eyes were cold and dark, like a snake's. They seemed to bore into his soul. It approached him and snarled something in its native tongue, its four jaws full of fangs. Benjamin couldn't move. All he could do was stare. Then he managed to break his gaze away from the alien and saw his father's gun laying a few feet away. Suddenly he was moving, and his trembling small hands grasped the weapon, and he struggled to bring it to bear. But he was only four years old, and it was too big. He looked back up at the alien, eyes brimming with tears of hate, and screamed his fury right in the creature's ugly face._

_ The alien blinked its eyes and clicked its jaws, then proceeded to make a rumbling noise that Benjamin guessed was laughter. It turned away from him and sprinted off, leaving him alone with the bodies of his parents. Benjamin gripped the shotgun as tight as he could as he cried and vowed to someday make all the aliens pay._

"Hold it, guys. Something's not right," Kayla said, bringing Benjamin out of his reverie.

The Elites had bunched up and were unusually quiet, listening for something. Benjamin had fought his share of aliens in the past few days, but he had never seen an Elite get spooked. Sure, Grunts and Jackals were prone to cowardice and fear, but never an honor-happy Elite warrior.

"What are they scared of?" Justin asked in his monotone voice.

"Beats me—maybe they know we're watchin'. Naw, lookie there. Brutes," Raymond said, interested.

What happened next was beyond any of the Spartans' ken.

One of the Brutes roared and immediately shot a volley of grenades at the Elites. The Elites all roared back and dodged with nimble reflexes, their swords flickering to life as they charged at the Brutes. All five of the Brutes started fighting the Elites, using their spikers and other weapons. It was the strangest sight any of the Spartans had ever seen.

"What do you think went wrong? Last I checked, these guys were brothers in arms," Raymond asked.

"Well, ONI did mention that sometimes Brutes and Elites have little… disagreements. Maybe this is just a spat," Hope suggested.

"I'm perfectly content to sit here and watch as they clobber each others' brains out. Then we can annihilate whoever wins," Jesse said happily.

The fight was going badly for both sides. Two of the Brutes had been killed, and a third was having his guts shoveled out by a berserker Elite. The other combatants were holding their own, hacking and stabbing and sending up a din of noise.

"Oh look, they're stumbling toward the welcome mat," Kayla noted.

_BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!_

"Aw, only took out a couple of 'em. Hey, now there's just one Elite left!" Raymond said excitedly.

The lone surviving Elite roared his indignation at the three Brutes and attacked. He moved with a deadly grace that Benjamin had seen only in his CO, Lieutenant Commander Kurt Ambrose. A Brute's head sailed clean of its shoulders, then another was cloven from shoulder to hip, and guts came pouring out as it sank to its knees, face screwed up in a dying snarl. The last Brute grabbed the Elite by its leg and slammed it into the ground. The Elite coughed up dark blood and swiped its sword at the Brute's left leg, shearing it in half at the ankle. As the hairy alien fell, the Elite speared it through the throat with its sword. The Brute thrashed, spewed blood everywhere, then died.

"One left over, and he's wounded. Snipe him or go down and put one a' these through his head?" Benjamin asked, holding up his Magnum.

"I dunno. Wait. I think we should interrogate him," Kayla said.

"What?" Five helmeted heads swiveled to look at their Team Leader.

"Okay, I know curiosity killed the cat and all, but this isn't normal. This planet is a high-priority Covenant target. I doubt the two races would just haul off and start killing each other just because of an interspecies grudge. We should at least find out if anything abnormal is going on. We could use a new development to our advantage."

"Makes sense," Raymond agreed.

"I don't know. We've never really interacted with one of the enemy before…" Benjamin bit his lip.

"There's a first time for everything." Kayla started to move out of the clearing. "You chickens coming or what?"

"Coming," Benjamin sighed, holstering his Magnum. He saw Hope disengage a device from her arm plating. He knew what it was; it was translation software, the best ONI could offer them. She wasn't in charge of the team's intel for nothing; the only sneak better than Hope in all of Gamma Company was Olivia, back on Onyx.

_Onyx._

Benjamin would never admit it, but he missed it already.


	2. Chapter 2 Allies

The six Spartan-IIIs approached the fallen warrior warily, moving slowly so their SPI armor could blend in with their surroundings more easily.

The alien saw them when they were a few meters away. It hacked up more blood and turned its head slowly, mandibles wide open as it panted. Its chest armor was crushed where the Brute had slammed it into the ground. Its sword lay on the ground, useless. It proceeded to make a series of garbled, guttural sounds that Benjamin guessed were words.

"Demons," the translation device rasped in a digitalized tone. "My prayers are answered."

That statement puzzled Benjamin, but he did not comment.

"O…kay," Kayla said, her rifle pointed at the Elite. "Now tell me. What's with you and the fuzzballs tearing into each other like that? I thought you guys were all on the same team."

The Elite cocked its head, perhaps straining to understand what she was asking. Finally it spat more blood and growled. "You… are unaware… of the Schism?" the translator ground out.

"Schism?" Raymond asked. "Sorry, no awareness."

"Our Prophets… have betrayed us. My race… condemned. My people… slaughtered by the Jirelhanae. The Covenant… is breaking apart!"

All six of the Spartans were floored by this revelation. Especially Benjamin. _What could have happened to cause the Covenant to break apart? _He stepped forward, more curious than angry now. "So now you don't like the Prophets anymore? How did this happen?"

"I told you, they… betrayed us. The Great Journey is a lie. We have been tricked, duped, swindled… so many lives wasted. So many warriors fallen." The alien's voice was getting weaker, and the translator was straining to properly interpret his words. "My people are regrouping, attempting to find answers in all the chaos… we are at war with our former allies. Demons…we… we must destroy the Jirelhanae and their minions, or both our races will fall…"

"Wait. 'We'? Since when was there a 'we'? We don't owe you anything. For all we know, you've killed millions of our kind. My team has a mission to complete, and it doesn't include helping _you_," Kayla said in a venomous tone. "Thanks for the whole 'Schism' memo, but we can take care of things on our own. Have a nice afterlife." With that, she raised her rifle and aimed directly at the Elite's eye.

_BLAM_. Blood and brains and bits of skull shot out of the other end of the Elite's head, and he died instantly. As the purple blood leaked out and pooled around Kayla's boots, she sighed. "So the Covenant is having a civil war, eh? Might be something we could use."

"Maybe. Well, we should get moving and regroup with Bayonet. They need to hear this," Benjamin suggested.

"Yeah. Team Dagger, move out. We got Covies to kill," Kayla ordered, stepping over the dead Elite.

As they hurried to the other side of the ravine, Benjamin cast a sidelong glance back at the dead Elite. He couldn't help but wonder what the Elite had meant by "my prayers are answered". He put the puzzling thought out of his mind and continued on his way, eager to do battle.

Thirty minutes later, after a hard march through Covenant-infested terrain, Benjamin's HUD picked up a weak signal. A green light showed up on his radar, tagged with the serial G005. _A Spartan!_

_ "Nice of ya'll to drop by, Dagger," _a drawling female voice said. _"We were beginnin' ta think you'd all kicked the can by now."_

"Quit it, Charlene, I'm not in the mood," Benjamin replied. Charlene was a high-achieving Spartan, but she didn't much care for the other Spartans, and it showed in her attitude. She was focused only on getting revenge for the murder of her entire family. As an act of rebellion against their trainers, she had carefully retained her Cajun accent over the years, much like Kayla had retained her English one.

_"Don't get your panties in a wad, Benjie. We're a-comin'."_

At that instant, several SPI-clad figured emerged from the thick forestry, moving with silent grace that made it hard to tell where the armor ended and real greenery began.

"Good to see you, 'Nets," Kayla said, relief in her voice. "We got some serious new intel for you. Nice signal, by the way. Frightened every Grunt within two miles, I'll bet."

"You can thank Ling for the fireworks," said Bayonet's leader, SPARTAN Alexander-G275. One of Bayonet's Spartans nodded, and Benjamin saw that he carried a large pack full of bombs and explosives on his back. "Now what's this intel?"

Benjamin glanced at Charlene, who managed to strike a slightly insolent pose even while in figure-concealing armor, and she covertly flipped him the finger. He gave no evidence that he had seen it, but inwardly, he wondered why she insisted on being such a problem. Here they were, surrounded by death, and all she could do was try to ruffle his feathers. It made no sense… but then again, Charlene never had made much sense unless she was trying to kill something.

"Looks like the Covies are at each other's throats now—at least, the apes and alligators are. Don't know about the birdbrains and gassers," Kayla said.

"Oh, we know that," Alexander said, gesturing over his shoulder. "That's why we have some new friends."

The air behind them shimmered, and four Elites materialized out of thin air.

Six weapons rose and pointed directly at each of the aliens. "What the eff, Alex?" Kayla hissed.

Alex remained calm. "They want to help us. They're on our side now. In fact, they're the only reason we've made it this far. We thought we could save Team Cutlass, but the Brutes got to 'em first. They're rampaging now, using technology they were previously forbidden to use. So these guys saved our butts instead of killing us. You think humanity's the only one on the Covenant's hit list? Well, the Elites have joined that bracket."

"Allow me to explain, Spartan," said one of the Elites, and Benjamin's jaw almost dropped inside his helmet. _Spartan. He called him Spartan, not Demon. This is nuts._

"Special Ops. Figures they'd know English," Raymond said under his breath, eyeing the Elites' signature stealth armor. "Probably tortured so many humans they even learned how to spell."

"You are soldiers created for the sole purpose of defending and protecting your kind, yes?" The Elite either didn't hear Raymond or chose to ignore him. "Well, so are we, after a fashion. Now the Sangheili have been cast aside by the Prophets, and our entire race is marked for extinction, as we are now useless to those greedy insects." The Elite paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully, then continued. "If either of our races hope to survive this madness, our only choice is to fight together… or each shall die alone."

Benjamin didn't lower his weapon, but relaxed his trigger finger. He could hear truth in the monster's words, truth he didn't like, because his greatest desire was to put a full clip through the Elite's skull. But when Kayla lowered her gun, Benjamin hesitantly followed suit, along with the rest of Team Dagger. He saw Kayla imperceptibly raise and lower her head, and Alexander did likewise—they were having a discussion on a private comm channel. Finally Kayla stood straighter, coming to a decision.

"So how can we help?" Kayla said, after a long and awkward silence.

"Injil—that's the one who just talked—has outlined all the present patrol routes that the Covenant established on this planet. Banshee flights, Jackal sniper positions, you name it, we got it. Only thing is, the Brutes mighta changed everything, so we can't fully rely on what we currently know."

"The Brutes are clever, but often careless," said another Elite. This one was smaller than the rest and had an ugly scar that had taken his right eye. "We can exploit that fault."

"Indeed," said Injil. He turned his head to Kayla. "How proficient is your team at hit-and-run sabotage?"

Benjamin could just imagine Kayla's expression of disgust over having an Elite addressing her. "Very," was all she said.


	3. Chapter 3: Shock

"You sure warmed up to those freaks awful fast."

Kayla made an annoyed sound when Benjamin asked the question. The two of them were inching up a cliff face, their weapons strapped to their backs.

"I'm not gonna ask 'em out on a date or anything, Ben. Just 'cause I agree with their idea doesn't mean I won't blow their brains out if they twitch the wrong way. You of all people should know that."

"Yeah, I know." Ben felt with his fingers for a sturdy hold and found one, then pulled himself up a few inches. "It's just… I hate them, I will always hate them. Even if we sign an intergalactic treaty and start an exchange student program… I'll hate 'em. Because every time I so much as look at their ugly faces, I see the a-hole that killed my parents."

"They killed mine too, Ben," Kayla said, her voice more gentle than snappish now. "It's why I'm a Spartan."

Benjamin didn't answer, just concentrated on the climb. His augmented bones and muscles enabled him to climb much faster than a normal human, but it was still tedious work. He was already sweating under his armor.

They both reached the top and peered over the edge, moving slowly so their active-camo could adjust.

"You stay here. I'll plant the charges, and if I don't make it back in five, just blow it anyway," Benjamin told Kayla.

She grabbed him by the arm. "I'm faster, and I'm better with those things," she reminded him.

Benjamin shook off her hand. "Yeah, and you're Team Leader. They need you."

Kayla sighed an explosive sigh. "You better come back, or I'll find your dead body and frag it."

Benjamin grinned and hoisted himself up. He silently sprinted across the dry dirt and made a beeline for the tanks of methane that had been set up for the incoming army of Grunts. It was a mile run, but he made it without even slowing his stride.

Benjamin took off his satchel and pulled out the charges. He fiddled with them, then smiled when they beeped affirmatively, indicating that they were ready to blow. He rose slowly and looked around, seeking out threats. There was nothing in sight—no blips on his motion tracker, nada—but he had an uncertain feeling welling up in his gut.

That feeling blossomed into dread when a crackle filled his ears, followed by Kayla's voice. "… assistance… ASAP… jamin… are you…"

For some reason, the transmission was unusually garbled, but he got the message. He broke into a full sprint in a matter of seconds, his augmented legs pumping beyond the call of duty as he raced to help Kayla. He didn't know what had befallen her, and he didn't care; he'd find out soon enough.

When he got there, however, he was met with a horrible sight.

Kayla was sprawled across the ground, blood pooling around her, and a big hairy Brute was growling over her body, the blades of its spiker adorned with a few of Kayla's insides. This sight was so utterly shocking, he almost didn't notice the two dead Brutes whose corpses lay limp and bloody in sickening positions, their hides peppered with bullet holes.

Benjamin brought up his MA5K and fired. The rounds went into the Brute's midsection, but it didn't seem to register the pain. It just bellowed a challenge and charged toward him, slinging Kayla's guts as it ran.

Benjamin fired again and again, and when the monster was nearly on top of him, he dodged it. He jumped up onto his shoulders and without hesitation, speared two fingers into the Brute's eyes. _Shoulda wore a helmet, genius. _The Brute roared in rage and clawed at him, meaty claws seeking purchase. Benjamin hooked one arm around the beast's throat, then pulled out his combat knife. He stabbed the creature in the side of the neck, then ripped it across, cutting through muscle and fur and windpipe and esophagus. The Brute went down with a gurgling growl, and when it hit the ground, face-down, Benjamin picked up its spiker and stabbed the blades through its spine. Then he pulled the trigger until it finally stopped moving. He stepped back, panting and trembling, the red haze fading from his vision. Then he stumbled toward Kayla, kneeling in the pool of her blood and gently removing her helmet. No wonder her attempt to comm him had failed; her helmet was a battered mess, the visor cracked in spiderweb-like patterns, each separate pane reflecting a distortion of his own helm back at him.

Kayla stared up at him, her face ashen, her eyes wide and full of pain. Blood trickled from a corner of her mouth. Her face was swelling and blood was also running from her ears. "Bennie," she mumbled, gasping and wheezing. She tried to move, but her legs just jerked. "Bad hurt."

"Don't move, don't talk. Just… just stay with me, 'kay?" Benjamin pleaded, stroking the top of her head with his fingers, feeling the stiff brush of her hair. "I'll signal the Prowler, and we'll get you back to Onyx, and—"

"Not goin' back." Kayla's eyes fluttered. "Bennie."

She was pushing something against him with her feeble strength, and when he looked down, he saw her Magnum.

"Hurts so bad," Kayla whimpered, tears leaking from her eyes. "So bad."

Benjamin stared, the realization of what she wanted him to do dawning on him, and he shook his head. "No, no, I'm not doing that, you're gonna make it, just stay, okay?"

"Ordering you." She was fading now, her eyes drifting shut. "Do it."

Benjamin removed his helmet, feeling small and helpless, unable to snatch Kayla up and keep her safe, unable to stop her suffering. "No," he replied through gritted teeth.

Somehow Kayla brought her arm up, gun in hand, and put the barrel to the side of her head. "KAYLA!" Benjamin shouted, horrified.

But then she relaxed, and the gun dropped, and her eyes fixated on something very far away, too far for Benjamin to know.

She was gone.

Benjamin stared at her pale, young face, too young for her overly-developed body, too young to be fighting and dying, and clenched his fists, accepting her death. It was useless to dwell on the loss—mourning would have to wait. Now he had to survive and honor her memory by fulfilling the mission. It was hard to keep his eyes dry, though, when he glanced at her face and saw that the girl he'd fought, bled and won beside was no more than an empty, battered shell.

_Focus on the mission, _a little voice in the back of Benjamin's head said, and he forced himself to look away. He unwillingly took the Magnum from Kayla's limp fingers, figuring he would need it. Her MA37 was gone; he wasn't going to look for it. He had to get back and report to the rest of the team.

Then Benjamin realized what he had to do now. He couldn't carry Kayla's body; it would hamper his ability to fight, and it would be an emotional distraction to their other Spartans. But he couldn't leave it for Brutes to devour. So he pulled a frag grenade from his belt. Then he decided no, that wasn't enough, all it would do was blow the body into pieces. He felt torn, then had an idea. An idea he was going to carry out, no matter how much precious time it took.

Benjamin walked away from Kayla's grave. Now that the deed was done, he could think more clearly. The grave was shallow, but he had heaved lots of huge boulders over it, and he was satisfied. Now Kayla could rest in peace.

_No, that's not quite right, _Benjamin thought, gritting his teeth. _She won't rest in peace till every last Covie on this screwed-up planet is dead. _To punctuate that thought, he kicked one of the Brutes Kayla had killed, relishing the feel of his metal toe cracking the dead monster's spine.

He found a much more convenient route off the cliff than the one he had taken to get up. It was a narrow slope that led down to the canyon floor. Bracing his left shoulder against the rock, he made his way down, careful not to damage any of his gear. His SPI armor was having fits, striving to change colors to blend with the variegated rock wall. Benjamin finally made it down all the way and took off for the woods, where the two-man teams were all supposed to rendezvous.

He walked into a clearing and glanced around. Two meters to his left, a reed swayed while the others stayed put. Benjamin scanned his radar. No signal. That meant he was looking at, not a Spartan-III, but an Elite. He wondered if it was friendly or hostile. There was always the chance that one or two soldiers might not get the memo that their entire faction was changing sides.

"I see you," Benjamin said aloud, his hand gripping his MA5K.

The air shimmered and fluctuated, and a blue-armored Elite appeared. He recognized the alien from earlier. It was the one that had the scar and the useless eye. The Elite held a carbine rifle and had several other weapons on him. "Spartan," the Elite said as a greeting. "Where is your comrade?"

"MIA," Benjamin said, not wanting to actually say she was dead. "Where's yours?"

"He fell," the alien said simply. Different statement, same meaning.

The two soldiers, former enemies, stood there awkwardly, each sizing the other up.

"Where are the other teams?" Benjamin asked.

"I know not," the Elite replied. "I am growing concerned."

"Maybe they're just being thorough. We like to make sure everything's dead before we head back to base," Benjamin said.

Suddenly static crackled in his helmet, and a comm channel uplink flashed on his HUD. He accepted it. _"This is SPARTAN-G326, do you copy? Dagger or Bayonet, do you copy?"_

"Hear ya loud and clear, Ray," Benjamin answered, troubled by how frantic Raymond sounded.

_"We're pinned two klicks north of… not sure how… three Spartans down… request immediate backup…" _His voice was swallowed up by static, then the connection was lost.

"Raymond? Ray? Fraggit!" Benjamin swore. He turned to the Elite, who was watching him with one keen golden eye. "One of my men is in trouble, and I think there are others with him."

"I wish to accompany you, Spartan," the Elite said, his English heavily accented by his deep, fluid voice. "One warrior alone is prone to attacks from behind. Two may fight back to back."

_Yeah, unless one warrior thinks the other one might stab him in the back, _Benjamin thought disgustedly. "You sure about that, Split-Lip? I'm no friend of yours, an' I don't wanna be."

"Regardless of that fact, you are in need of a teammate, as am I." The Elite stepped toward him. "I want revenge for the deaths of my brethren, just as you want revenge for the slaughter of your race."

"You have no idea what I want," Benjamin said in an even voice. He felt tempted to lash out, to kill this alien bastard right here and now, as images from his bloody past flashed before his eyes. His parents dying. The Elite laughing, while a young Benjamin looked on, helpless.

The Elite did not answer, merely blinked his remaining eye and harrumphed. "We are wasting time. Your comrade needs help."

Ben felt a burning frustration in his cheeks, but he controlled himself. A lifetime of drills and combat training kicked in and pushed his emotions down into a tight, contained ball deep in his chest. "You're right," he said, appalled he was saying it to an Elite, of all things. "We should get moving."

_I'm not about to let another Spartan get cut down on my watch._

**Note: The MA5K and the MA37 are basically the same gun; why do I use both in the story, you ask? Well, because since Ackerson is an Army colonel, he might have "his" Spartans issued both Navy/Marines and Army weaponry. And because I like to use a little variety. :)**


End file.
